


Christmas Songfics 2020

by fiction_mist



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/F, F/M, Human Disaster Clint Barton, I can't remember whether americans say sofa or couch and I no longer care, I wrote about a man??, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Romance, Slow Dancing, Soft Natasha Romanov, Songfic, carol danvers is a useless lesbian, human disaster reader too tbf, it's a christmas tree what could it cost ten dollars, lucky the pizza dog is a matchmaker, make no mistake this is comics clint, mistletoe and shit, one of these was requested and the rest were wishful thinking, soft Wanda Maximoff, there's swearing and christmas dinners because I'm british unfortunately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiction_mist/pseuds/fiction_mist
Summary: Fluffy festive reader-insert fics, featuring christmas tree shopping, mistletoe, slow dancing, a matchmaking golden retriever, and space voicemails.
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Reader, Clint Barton/Reader, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Reader, Wanda Maximoff/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	1. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas - Wanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't resist a holiday slowdance with the adorable little witch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally I feel it's important to note that I was thinking specifically of the First Aid Kit version when I wrote this.

It’s the end of another classic Stark christmas party and people are passing out and pairing off when a slow song comes on and you notice a certain witch you may or may not be head over heels for swaying to herself with a wistful look in her eye.

Part of you thinks you should go to bed before you do anything dumb. The louder part thinks _fuck it_ , it’s christmas and she’s beautiful and she deserves a dance with someone who looks at her like she hung the moon - and let’s be honest that’s well within her range.

So you shuffle over to her, clear your throat and ask “May I have this dance?” and her face just lights rights up.

She can barely keep the beaming smile off her face, still so happy to be noticed after a lifetime in the shadow of her older, louder brother, and holds out a hand for you to intertwine your fingers with.

You start off giggling and twirling but you’re sleepy and warm and she seems so content that you slowly drift closer together until your head is dropping onto her shoulder.

 _This is what christmas should be_ , you think, your eyes fluttering shut.


	2. Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) - Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha's away on a mission, everyone else is getting into the Christmas spirit, and you're shamelessly pining.

You know Natasha cares about her job. You know Natasha is incredibly good at her job. You know that Natasha puts her job first, above (almost) anything.

You take issue with Natasha putting her job above spending Christmas with you.

It’s not that you think seeing your girlfriend in an ugly christmas jumper is more important than saving the world, it’s not, it’s just that when you picture her waiting under some mistletoe, or curled up in front of _Love Actually_ , or pretending not to sing along to christmas songs, you just don’t have it in you to care about anything else, even alien mafia robots running riot across Europe.

And everyone around you is so damn festive. Wanda is _knitting_ , Tony is directing his bots in decorating the tree, Steve is trying to convince you all to go caroling, and Bruce, bless him, is trying to chemically perfect all the elements of a Christmas dinner.

And you, far from your usual christmas cheer, spend most of the run up to chrsitmas moping around in a perfectly nice but not at all christmassy jumper, and letting out little sighs evey time you see something christmassy.

Christmas alone _sucks_. It’s just not worth the hassle.

Which means it feels all the more special when you wake up early on Christmas morning to the world’s cutest assassin straddling your waist with a bunch of mistletoe in her hand and an adorable grin on her face.

“Merry Christmas Baby”


	3. Christmas Wrapping - Carol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's really hard to set up a date with someone who doesn't live on the same planet as you.

You’ve been drooling over Carol from the moment you first saw her, the only problem is the very minor thing of her not really living on Earth. Every time you see her the two of you try and make plans, whether you bump into her around the compound or in one of the other seemingly random places you’ve seen her. But every time you either end up in the medbay, or she gets called back to Space (though she gets very indignant when you refer to Space as a place and insists that she’s usually on a planet), or you can’t seem to call each other at the right time, instead leaving several months of intergalactic voicemail exchanges.

It’s not until Christmas Eve when you’re alone in the compound and decide to cook your own christmas dinner that you run into her at the supermarket when you both reach for the last cranberry sauce. You both laugh, and she’s got this adorable blush across her cheeks, and you carry on smiling all the way to the checkout, and all the way back to the compound after you offer her a lift instead of flying, and all through christmas dinner. In fact, even when she wakes up on the sofa at 3 am to find It’s _A Wonderful Life_ playing on the TV, she sees you smiling in your sleep, leant against her shoulder.


	4. Last Christmas - Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having put off celebrating or even acknowledging the holiday, come Christmas Eve you give in and go in search of the last christmas tree in the city, only to bump into the person responsible for your grinching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is way, way longer than the others and should probably be its own work but it's already past midnight and I really can't be bothered. You'll get what you're given. It's the only one taht was actually requested and I actually put some thought into it. 
> 
> Everyone's a disaster and it's got those signature ~problematic vibes~ of every christmas romcom, right up to the washing over that with cutesy cheesiness.

So admittedly, trying to find and then bring home a christmas tree, in New York, on Christmas Eve may not have been your greatest idea ever, but it’s not like it was entirely your fault.

You’d been all set on ignoring the festivities completely, staying in by yourself and emerging in the new year once all the bright lights and warm cuddles and rich food was gone. After last christmas you really weren’t in the mood to celebrate.

Today though, the nagging from everybody you knew had finally hit a breaking point, and now here you were, not remotely dressed for the freezing weather, someone else’s santa hat you’d found under the sofa on your head, attempting to negotiate with the grumpy guy working there over a price for the last remaining half dead yet enormous christmas tree, when suddenly you were on the sidewalk covered in something large and golden with a wet face.

“Lucky! Aw, Lucky, no! Get off her, bad dog, you can’t just go round attacking-”

“Clint?”

“…Fuck.”

And yeah, you weren’t exactly expecting to run into the guy who’d ruined christmas for you when you’d just got yourself into Christmas Mode, and any other time you would’ve either run away or tried to fight him (and given how he’d taken the break up, blank faced and accepting, he probably would’ve just stood there and let you hit him), but it turns out it’s really, really difficult to be angry with a soft warm golden retriever trying to make out with you - even as you could feel your ass getting cold and wet from the gross grey slush on the ground beneath you.

“Alright Lucky, I think that’s probably enough now!” You say, pushing him back enough to sit up, smiling despite yourself.

Lucky seems to look between you and the extremely sheepish-looking Clint Barton towering over you, God, you’d forgotten just how tall he is, the hot bastard.

You stand and dust yourself off, already feeling the cold sinking into your bones.

“So how’ve you-”

“Sorry I just lost track of him and-”

You both laugh a little awkwardly, before the tree seller behind you clears his throat and you remember you’d been in the middle of your fairly heated tree negotiations.

“… I’m not giving you more than 15 dollars for it”

“It’s huge!”

“It’s dead!”

“It’s Christmas eve, where are you gonna find another tree?”

“It’s Christmas eve, where are you gonna find another schmuck to buy it?”

“$18”

“Done.”

It’s not until you’ve paid the guy and he’s started packing up that you realise Clint’s still stood there, scratching the back of his neck as he does in any vaguely-grown up situation.

“…Yes?” You ask him.

“Do you need any help getting that home?”

_Shit._

You’d been so focused on getting a tree, any tree, that you hadn’t really thought as far as how you were gonna get the 7 foot twig back across the city alone, on one of the busiest nights of the year.

Well, there’s a reason you and Clint had made a relatively good couple. Disasters of a feather and all that.

You looked around, chewing your lip, as if a solution was going to suddenly appear beside you.

“…What did you have in mind?”

Which is how you found yourself carrying a massive dead tree onto the subway with your ex-boyfriend as you tried to make something resembling mature small talk and prevent Lucky eating the trail of pine needles you were leaving through the station.

“So…still saving the world then?”

“Sort of part-time”

“Oh. What do you do the rest of the time?”

_Mope around and watch Dog Cops._

“Uh. This and that”

“Hm. What happened to your face?”

As usual, Clint was sporting a black eye and an array of band-aids.

“…Something heroic.”

“How the hell did you ever go undercover?” You ask, laughing at his terrible attempt at a lie.

“Eh, that was always more Natasha’s area.”

As the name washed over you both he froze, your smile dropped a little and you blinked.

_Fuck’s sake Clint._

It’s not that you’d forgiven him, but he just looked so helpless stood there on the platform, eyes wide in something like horror as he realised what he’d said, and he was helping you out, so god help you, you offered him an out.

“How come you’re not wearing your santa hat?”

In the years you’d known Clint Barton, without fail he’d donned a ratty old santa hat the night of thanksgiving, and without fail it stayed on until mid-February. You’d always loved how excited he got this time of year. The avengers were less pleased to be running around with the marksman looking so festive.

His face screwed up in confusion.

“What?”

Looking from side to side as if he feared being told off, he then nodded towards you and your eyes widened, crossing slightly as you looked upwards and realised just who’d left your current accessory under the sofa.

Luckily the train chose that moment to arrive, interrupting your stumbling excuse/apology and leaving you both stumbling to get the stupidly big, getting deader-by-the-second tree on, Clint just managing to grab Lucky by the collar and get him in too before the doors shut.

The train’s not completely packed but it is busy, so surrounded by children screaming their own versions of christmas songs, grumpy adults surrounded by still to-be-wrapped gifts, and a meowing cardboard box, the three of you (you, Clint, and the tree) stood and swayed by the handlebar.

You looked at the ground, feeling the _oh god what am I doing?_ feeling of hanging out with Clint Barton sink into your gut. As if sensing it, Lucky licked at your fingers, making you smile.

Despite the noise around you, you all remain silent as you trundle your way back to yours.

That is, until a rather forceful stop sends Clint, Lucky, and the damn tree careening onto you as you grab the bar tight and brace for impact, only to open your eyes and find lucky with the tree in his mouth just about holding himself up, and one Clint Barton wrapped tightly around your middle as the train starts moving again.

Seeing him like that tugs at something inside you and for a moment you stretch your fingers out, about to sink them into that sandy hair of his before he tilts his head up and as you look at his face you’re reminded how blank it had been after you’d walked into that room at Tony Stark’s christmas party last year and seen him-

“Sorry,” he says, straightening back up to his ridiculous height and releasing the most painfully awkward chuckle you’ve ever heard - and you’ve known him for years, you’ve heard plenty of those in your time. This is a terrible idea.

“Clint, maybe-”

“This is your stop, right?”

_Shit._

“Right.” A tight smile pulls its way across your face as you pick up the fucking tree, wincing at the amount of needles it leaves on the floor.

It’s quiet again as you exit the station and turn towards your apartment.

“That’s new.”

Because _of course_ he notices that a new pizza place has opened up next door.

“Uh, yep,” god, how the hell did you get here, you used to not need words with this man, now you couldn’t get them out if your life depended on it, “look, Clint, thanks for the help and all, but I think I’ve got it from here.” The words come out pained and stilted, which seems to throw him in entirely the wrong direction.

“Hey, it’s no trouble, and besides, you live on the fifth floor, and this thing’s huge, and I’m here now anyway, and-”

“Okay!”

…With Clint, it’s usually just easier to let him run with things and deal with the consequences after. What’s the worst that could happen?

The worst is bumping into the old lady in 3C who always loved Clint, and seeing him melt at the puppies in 5A as he shows them to Lucky who gives them each a sniff and a lick, and eventually getting the tree up to your apartment. The worst is also Clint volunteering to help decorate your painfully unfestive apartment, and his eyes lighting up at seeing the tangled mess of your lights, and declaring he can sort them in no tine at all. The worst is no time at all being 58 minutes, and a _Dog Cops_ rerun being the first thing that comes on the TV. It’s Clint reaching up to put the star on top of your stupidly tall tree, his shirt riding up to reveal a wad of bandage, and you being there fussing over him before you’ve even realised what you’ve done. The worst is the soft look in his eye, and the realisation that you two haven’t stopped talking since you got back. It’s ordering pizza because decorating makes you hungry and there’s nothing in the fridge and he wants to try that new place because it has really weird toppings available.

And obviously you have to watch something while you eat, and the _Dog Cops_ Christmas special is on, and obviously that means sitting on the sofa, and Lucky’s barely left any room for you two now he’s rediscovered his favourite spot, and Clint’s like a fucking furnace and you’re tired from the last minute Christmas cheer.

The worst is waking up two hours later to find you’ve fallen asleep on the remote, and now it’s switched to the music channel, and the cheesy video of blonde George Michael is on, and Clint has drool on his chin and a contented look you hadn’t seen in _so long_ , long before last Christmas, and seeing him snoring in his Santa hat is _right_ , and Lucky stretches across your lap and the soft light from the tree glows in the corner and really, you never stood a chance once Lucky had found you again. The worst is falling asleep with that damn xylophone solo in your ears and feeling that this had always been your someone special anyway.


End file.
